Poison
by OhMerlinsPants
Summary: Raven returns to the now adult Titans fifteen years later, child in tow. She appears to lack powers, but what is this mysterious menace now stalking them?


**Official Disclaimer: **I do not own Teen Titans. Or any of the songs or pop culture references I use. I am poor. Anything else...?

**Personal Disclaimer**: "I am loathe to admit it, but I have a love affair with: semicolons; colons; _random italicizing_; Random Capitalizing (and of course parentheses should be on the list); not to mention my excessive amount of adverbs," she added, somewhat guiltily.

* * *

_What's the fuckin' difference, we all gonna die_

_You gonna do something killer?_

_C'mon give it a try._

_--Queens of the Stone Age_, "You Got a Killer Scene There, Man..."

* * *

_Poison_

**Chapter One**

_Wednesday Evening

* * *

_

"You slept with her, you dick!"

"I did no such thing."

"I could _hear _you!"

"Well, then you could hear that she stormed off in a sobbing fit after I accidentally called her Maria, which isn't her real name, incidentally... What _is_ her name? I've been meaning to ask you."

"....I'm going to kill you."

"Let me finish my pizza first. I'm starving. Oh, would you like a beer?"

"....I'm going to kill you."

"I'll take that as a no."

The two best friends were sitting across from each other at the large, worn table in the middle of the kitchen, pizza between them, arguing about Rhys's Love of His Life and Blaze's Recent Conquest. Or at least partial conquest, considering she did indeed storm off in a sobbing fit after he accidentally called her Maria. Their relationship had suffered a bit over past two years as Blaze steadily grew into a Sex Fiend.

"Honestly, I don't see what the problem is," Blaze said, taking an enormous bite of pizza, swallowing it loudly with a huge gulp of beer. "It's not my fault the ladies can't keep their hands off me."

Rhys's jaw was set in stony silence.

"Come on, man," Blaze said, stuffing an entire slice of pizza into his mouth. "Tamph tomph."

Rhys blinked. "What?"

Blaze drained half the beer in one gulp, pounded his chest, and belched obnoxiously. He sighed in contentment and ruffled his flaming red hair before saying, "I _said_, 'Talk to me.'"

"Ah." Rhys rolled his eyes. "That's what I thought you said, but I needed to know for sure."

"No need for the lip, son." Blaze grabbed his—fifth?—slice of pizza and asked, "What are you up to tonight?"

"I dunno." Rhys shrugged. "Probably babysitting the triplets like we're supposed to."

"Lame, man. _Lame_."

He rolled his eyes for the second out of most likely several times this evening. "Fine, then. What do you want to do?"

"I dunno. What do you want to do?"

"I dunno, and I don't care, which is the reason for my suggestion to actually do what we're supposed to do."

"Well," Blaze said, leaning back, trademark Grayson smirk on his face (he had obviously expected that answer), "I know what we need to do."

Blaze paused, and Rhys took that as his cue to ask, "And what, exactly, is that?"

"Let's get _wasted."

* * *

_

"You slept with him, you bitch!"

"Yeah, and what are you going to do about it, tough man?!"

"Nothing. I don't care, Terra."

"Yeah, that's what I thought--what?"

"You heard me. I'm sick of this, Terra. I'm sick of _you_!"

".... you can't do this to me. We're married. We swore a goddamn _oath._"

"Screw that. I'm leaving for good. I'm crashing at Vic's house tonight. You have three days to get out of _my_ house and into _your _apartment."

".... you can't do this to me... Gar--wait!"

The door slammed in her face, and Terra slumped down to the ground, sobbing. Their marriage had always been rocky, considering it was entirely one sided, and she had forced him into marrying her. The past two years had been even worse; her children never slept at their home--they spent every night in their _own_ bedrooms at the Grayson household.

It forced a new bout of tears of self-pity and utter revulsion for the state her life was now in. She was a raging alcoholic, and that's what got her fired from her job around a year and a half ago. Terra had loved it; aside from random, lucky moments, this was the only chance she had to really work with earth, ground, and dirt: her passion. California was a perfect place for a geologist.

After several minutes, she forced herself up, and actually moved towards her own, separate bedroom from Gar's. She knew Gar was being serious; he had that look in his eye that she hadn't seen in a very, _very_ long time.

She counted herself lucky to be alive right now.

* * *

"Dude, no, dude--aww, come on, that's _no _fair!"

"_So _fair!"

"I'm gunna kill you--!"

There was a muffled shout as Blaze tackled Rhys off the couch and onto the carpeted floor. Jade, Blaze's youngest sister, watched on with amusement. They still hadn't figured out that their drinks contained something much more potent than alcohol.

"Say uncle!"

"Never!"

"Say it!"

"I'd rather die!"

"That can be arranged!"

Jade grinned. _Oh, boy_, she thought, _where's a camera when you need one?

* * *

_

"She needs to meet her real father."

"Gar, wait. Please--"

"Wait for what? She's sixteen!"

There was a loud, tense silence.

"Raven, please. Hell, she has to wonder. Her hair is--"

"Gar, stop it!"

Raven was beside herself. Gar was making perfect sense. He always did, when it came to Gale; perhaps she was too emotional, as Gale really was all she had. _I'm doing this to protect her,_ Raven tried to convince herself. _Really. They'll tear her apart._

"What about the others?" she added softly, unable to speak louder than a whisper. Oh, God, it hurt too much to think about them..._him_...

He snorted. "What about them? I know you want to see them. Especially _him_--"

"Gar! You know, I don't, you know," Raven finished lamely, waving her hands in a desperate hope for understanding.

Luckily (or unluckily), he got it. "Love him," he said calmly. "I know you don't love him."

"Yes."

"That's a lie."

"Gar, stop it."

"I'll stop when you stop lying."

"Gar--" She looked him the eyes, and she was struck by how tall he was--was he always this tall?--then she remembered, oh, did she remember--

_I think I'm finally getting tall, he said, looking at himself in the mirror, puffing himself up, poking out that scrawny green adorable chest--_

_Yeah, I think you are too, I thought, but didn't dare say it. I couldn't. Plus he looked so cute, and it would sound so weird, and is he even talking to me--_

_Rae? What do you think? Raaaaaeee.... He dragged out my name, and for some reason I liked that, I don't know why, he was just being annoying--_

_No._

_Aww, come on, Rae! Look how much skin I'm showing!_

_It was true. He was showing so much skin--what did it feel like? Was it soft? Coarse? Rough? Smooth? She wanted to touch his skin so badly... _

"Gar," she said, firmly, confidently, staring him in those black eyes but somehow seeing green, "I love you."

"I love you, Rae," Gar said, weakly, "but I know you don't love me."

"Gar, I _do _love you." That tooth--would he still have that tooth? She couldn't count the amount of cut lips she had gotten.

"Rae, say my name."

Raven was confused. "Gar."

"No," he said slowly, "my _name_."

"Garth." Raven had to choke down the urge to cry; she knew where this was going, and she wouldn't be able to do it.

"Say it, Rae."

"I can't, Garth."

For some reason, he seemed satisfied, though he still looked incredibly distressed. What had she done?

"Take her, Rae."

* * *

"Like, then, I was, like... 'No. Fucking. Way.' And then he was like, 'Dude, no shit,' and I was like, 'Fuck no! I just dumped that chick?'"

Both Blaze and Rhys laughed uproariously at Blaze's nigh incoherent story, though there really was nothing humorous about the entire thing.

"Oh, man, we are so wasted," Rhys moaned, clutching the large bottle closer to his chest.

"I know. I mean, I've only had, like, twelve fucking beers. I shouldn't be, like, totally completely fucked like this."

"Yeah," Rhys agreed stupidly. He was even farther gone than Blaze.

"My mom can drink like, eighty beers and still be okay. Like, I bet she was so expensive at parties when she was younger... I bet they were so pissed!" For some reason the fact that his mother might "piss people off" delighted Blaze.

"Yeah. Wait." Rhys paused to think. "Weren't they in the Tsunami Teens or something?"

"Oh yeah! That blows."

"I dunno. I would like it. There were hot girls. My dad liked it. He liked two of them, actually..."

"Yeah?" Blaze answered, not really listening.

"Yeah. He liked my mom less. I dunno why he married her. And I dunno where the other girl is, either," he added thoughtfully.

"How do you know?" Blaze asked, now rather attentively for his extreme state of intoxication.

"I heard them fighting about it," Rhys said absentmindedly. "It's not really that important. Let's just look at the stars..."

The two friends were lying on the roof of Blaze's mansion, gazing up at the stars barely visible due to all the metropolitan California pollution. It was pretty, though, and utterly mind boggling for people as wasted as they were.

Blaze continued to stare above, beginning to sober up (he had the unique power of being able to burn the alcohol out of his bloodstream, a trick he tried when only moderately drunk), reflecting about how small and insignificant people were compared to this vast universe, how his mother's home planet of Tamaran was faring and where it was, and how that one star formation looked like the tits of that one--

"_Dude! Shooting star at six o'clock!"_

"Rhys, what the--six o'clock is directly behind us, you moron!"

"Fine, whatever, _shooting star at twelve o'clock!"_

"Rhys, I swear to god I'm going to kill you if you don't stop yelling." Blaze's head was pounding; his powers did not make hangovers any better. "And there is no shooting star. I was looking that way, too, and all I saw was a star formation that looked like tits."

"Obviously you weren't looking hard enough."

"Obviously you saw a plane, since those people are arriving tomorrow."

"Obviously you're a dick."

"Obviously you're drunk out of your mind."

"Obviously you're a dick."

"Obviously we both need to go to bed."

"Obviously you're a dick."

"Obviously we both need to go to bed, as it is now, uh, past four a.m."

"Obviously you're a d--seriously?"

"Seriously."

There was an awkward pause.

"...how did we even get up here?"

"I have no idea."

"...Let's go to bed."

"Let's go to bed."

It only took a few minutes for loud snores to shatter the "tranquility" of the night.

* * *

Jade, Calvin, and Davis, the brilliant twelve-year-old triplets that all seemed to be exactly like their father, were sitting around, watching TV. Jade had control of the remote, and was pointedly ignoring Davis's requests for ESPN. Calvin had his nose buried in a book, as usual, though Davis nor Jade had any idea what he was reading.

Finally, after several minutes of tense silence (Davis had given up, and was now glaring at Jade's smirking profile, most likely angrily concocting a plan to steal the remote), Calvin spoke up: "You know, technically Jesus is a zombie."

* * *

Gale sat on the end of her small twin bed, in her small room, in shock. It hadn't been up for debate. She _was_ going. She _was_ going to meet these _twelve _strangers all the way over in _California._ She loved Vermont. Mainly because she lived in a small town--really it could be called a village--and, since she was home-schooled, people couldn't make fun of her appearance.

Her mom didn't understand. Sure people might think things about her, but they never said it to her face. She didn't have _pointy_ ears, sharp canines--_fangs--_that made her lips bleed all the time, and _green_ hair. _Green_. Who did her mom sleep with, an elf?

And California would be so much worse. There would be, _will_ be, she corrected herself, so many more people there that judge. Movie stars live there. Surely that would have rubbed off on the general population...

Gale didn't know what to do, didn't know whether or not to pack, whether or not to just _leave_ and run away to the bookstore they owned. But that would be too obvious. Perhaps... Garth?

She laughed to herself, shaking her head. That would be the very first place she looked. "Oh, god," she moaned, the situation finally hitting home, "why me?" She laid her arms on her knees, and hunched over, burying her face in her lap.

She sat like this, comfortable, until suddenly her ears twitched. She heard loud footsteps walk down the hallway, and knew it was her mother. "What do you want?" she called out, her voice muffled by her sweatshirt.

"Gale, why aren't you packing?" Her mother's voice, the opposite of being warm and caring--in her own special way--when she curled up like this in distress, was somewhat panicky.

"Why should I pack?" Gale knew she was being obstinate, but she really didn't care right now.

"We're leaving tomorrow."

"What the--" Gale finally lifted her head, staring at her mother in disbelief. She knew she heard correctly; her ears never deceived her. "Are you serious?"

"Deathly." Her mother gave a weak, watery smile, and it was then that Gale noticed her bloodshot eyes and her bright red nose. She could never disguise when she had been crying.

"Mom, are you--"

"Here," she interrupted, walking quickly over to Gale and thrusting a small package into her hands. "Garth thinks of everything."

As her mother turned to quickly leave the room, Gale asked, "Mom--wait--what is this?"

Still leaving the room, her mother said, "Read the letter. I won't be able to explain it very well."

Suddenly she was gone, and Gale was left alone to stare at the small package.

* * *

"I hate her, Vic," he said venomously, "_I hate her."_

"Okay, Gar," Vic said, raising his hands in an attempt to placate his best friend. "What did she do this time?"

Gar's eyes narrowed in anger and frustration that his best friend hadn't identified the _her_ he was talking about. "'What did she do?'" he repeated, getting angrier by the second. "More like what she _didn't_ do! She hasn't contacted us, _me_, for fifteen years, and now here she comes with a child--_my_ child--"

Gar growled dangerously, once again reminding Vic what was hidden right beneath the surface. "Gar--I'm sure she thought it was for the best--"

_"Shut up!"_ he screamed, his pupils immediately dilating and muscles swelling. "I'm tired of other people thinking they know what is best for _me_! _I _want to decide! _Me!" _

Vic stepped back. He knew Gar had reached the danger point, and anything he would say would result in violence.

Gar roared, a deep, animalistic roar that echoed throughout the house, the city. Vic was sure time had stopped; he could no longer breathe, only watch, as the beast that had taken over Gar so many years ago took over now, so much bigger, though, and so much angrier, ferocious--

The beast bounded out the window, and Vic didn't have the courage to hunt it down.

* * *

"Calvin," Jade said slowly, "shut up."

She had been saying this for the past five minutes, but Calvin had yet to be deterred. He was going through a currently unexplained fascination with zombies.

"No, seriously, guys," Calvin said earnestly. "I'm surprised the Romans didn't just burn Jesus. That's the best way to prevent a reanimation."

There was a loud grunt from the other end of the couch, which sounded suspiciously similar to, "What the _hell_, Calvin? I'm trying to watch the game."

Jade shot Davis a dirty look, and continued to try to persuade Calvin that he was a moron. "Calvin, dearest brother, if the neighbors hear you talking like that we'll have to move again. Do you want that?"

Calvin dismissed her attempts at patronizing logic. "Jade, listen, seriously! So many people could be zombies--I bet Elvis is--"

"Calvin, _The National Inquirer _has already established that Elvis is actually an alien and has returned to his home planet."

"Psh. Whatever. Those guys can't be trusted."

"And... you can," Jade said incredulously.

"Yes!" Calvin's face was lit from within by enthusiasm and fanaticism. "That's what I've been telling you this whole time! The Bible is _full_ of zombies--hell, history itself--for instance, there was this one time, actually quite recently, in 1611--"

Jade quickly turned away from Calvin and his disturbing array of zombie facts, and asked Davis discreetly, "Where's Blaze? I bet he can snap him out of it." At _him_ Jade had jerked her thumb back at Calvin, which, unfortunately, he took as encouragement.

"Oh! So you _do_ want to hear the details of the 212 B.C. Chinese zombie attack!"

Jade stiffened, and Davis merely shrugged in answer to her question, which obviously indicated that he had no idea where they were, but he wouldn't be _that_ unwilling to bet that they were still on the roof.

"How did they even get up there?" Jade mused aloud, ignoring Calvin's meaningless prattle and missing Davis's mischievous grin.

* * *

Gale opened the letter carefully; there was something in there other than paper, and she didn't want to lose it. It still tumbled onto her lap--damn her clumsiness--and turned to out to be _they_. They were two oddly shaped rings that looked specifically fitted for her (very few people have fingers that thin), with a medium sized band and a small flat area on top, where there was normally a jewel. All in all it was extremely bizarre, and Gale immediately wanted to put them on, without reading any note.

She did, however, take the time to read the note, and was glad she did.

_Gale--_

_I had someone make these for you--it alternates your appearance, to how you would look without the mutant gene. And before you ask, yes, I did get your DNA, but it wasn't hard, considering how big of a slob you are. _(This made Gale grin, despite the situation.) _And don't worry about it--it won't hurt. It's more of an illusion. But be cautious. It can take over, though you may doubt me now. Only wear it when necessary, please. _(Gale frowned. What did he give her?) _This will let you pass through the airport without a problem, and your mom has the license to match the "new you." _

_And Gale, remember, please, that no matter _what_ happens, I will always love you. I always have, and I always will, despite the fact that you are not my child. I just wanted you to know that. _

_--Garth_

_PS: Apparently, all you do is put them on your middle fingers and hit them together. There is a fairly bright flash, though, so close your eyes. It also helps if you say, _Wondertwin powers, activate!_ (He had to make them in a hurry my ass, the slacker)._

What did he mean, take over? And what was the deal with the "I love you"? Of _course_ she knew that. But that's not why she was crying, of course. She wasn't crying because of the tone of finality in the letter, of something that was going down, again, that she didn't know about. She wasn't crying about that at all. No, she blamed it on that fact that she would finally see what she would look like?

That sounds right.

She put on the rings and stood in front of the mirror, nervous. What would she look like? Would it be worse than now--no, she decided, it can't be worse. Nothing can be worse than having green hair, pointy ears, fangs, and purple eyes.

She stood, feet shoulder-width apart, bracing herself as if for impact. She quickly flexed her long fingers, and palms nervously sweating, she clenched her hands together, yelling as she did so, _"Wondertwin powers, activate!" _

A bright, blinding flash, even though her eyes were closed--and her body--it didn't hurt--it felt like she had a bucket of cold water thrown over, head-to-toe, while simultaneously her entire body was asleep, but she could still feel it all--

Finally, when all the bizarre sensations abated, and she felt it safe to pry her rings apart, she opened her eyes.

And was forced to take a step back.

_Who _is_ this?_ she thought, lifting a hand to touch her cheek. It was warm, as usual--not the cold caused by ring--but also not as soft as usual. She rubbed her hand up and down her now slightly tanned arm, and her skin felt somewhat coarse, not like her pale green (olive, please) skin. _Most curious,_ she thought, examining her reflection.

Her eyes were still that bright lavender, obviously inherited from her mother, though her hair was now _blonde. _And not straight, and wild, and thick, like normal, like a mane, but incredibly _curly_, and incredibly _thin_. Well, maybe it was compared to her normal hair, but... this was _weird._

And her face. Her eyebrows were the same color, as were her eyelashes and the rest of her body hair. _This is so weird_, she thought, running a finger across her eyelid (skin just as coarse) to her eyelashes (hair just as thin). _But_...

She hurriedly lifted her upper lip, and saw canines sharper than normal--but not fangs. She ran her finger over them, pressed the pads of her fingers into the points, and... no blood. She could've laughed for joy.

Next, ears. She was nervous. Would they be just as long and deformed and slanted as normal--no, she breathed, _normal._ Normal normal. She ran her finger over the tip, that somewhat coarse rounded tip, and decided that coarse skin and thin hair and nigh nonexistent eyelashes were now worth it.

* * *

Blaze groaned. He had, possibly, the worst headache and hangover of his entire life. His back ached, his neck pounded, and his arm cramped like none other... Not to mention the sun was entirely too bright for hangover recovery in this period of time. After a few hours of waking, maybe, but not right now. So what were the curtains doing open?

But then Blaze realized something. He had shutters. Everyone's room--meaning the triplets', Autumn's, Jon's, Rhys's, and his, all had shutters, and were all locked, to prevent the temptation of flying out the window before it began.

This made Blaze sit up suddenly and then clutch his head in agony, moaning loudly, "Where the... where the hell am I?"

He blinked tiredly, in a haze of confusion, before managing to stumble upwards into a semblance of a standing position. He scratched his bare chest absentmindedly (his obvious shirtless appearance unfortunately exposing his scar to bright sunlight), ruffled his hair as usual, and then looked down at his now filthy, dirt covered hands (already dirty or from his hair he had no idea). He glanced at his now bare feet, his brand new shoes absent and his jeans burned off to well above his knees. He ruffled his hair again, and scratched the back of his neck as he squinted into the sun.

"God_damn _it's hot up here," he murmured, though it didn't really bother him. He just felt the need to comment on the utter ridiculousness of the current situation.

"Damn straight," came a voice next to him, on the tiled, slanted floor, clad in _his_ shirt (which was small for him--Blaze was much taller and slightly skinnier) and with half of his hair cut off.

Blaze swallowed. That would _not _be pretty later. He ruffled his entire head this time, just to check, and it did seem like it was all there, yet perplexingly dirty.

Blaze walked across the scalding floor, though, again, it didn't really bother him, and leaned over.

"Hey, man."

There was a grunt. Apparently he had discovered the horrors of sunlight.

"I think we're on the roof."

* * *

There is another disclaimer on my profile, in case anyone has ever read another story called _Poison_ by someone who is called **darkchocolatetrogdor. **Please read it before any flames involving plagiarism come into play.

And, speaking of flames... I do accept them. Happily. I am always trying to improve, and to do that I need "flames." But please make them nice flames. Don't hurt my feelings _too _much.

--OMP


End file.
